Harry Potter and the Final Encounter
by CatChewer
Summary: Basically the Sixth book of the Harry Potter series


Author's note: This is my first ever story I've ever written on Fanfic. Hope you guys enjoy it. :D  
  
I, sadly, did not create the characters in this story, they were borrowed from the phenomenal JK Rowling. Hopefully she won't take offence on me trying to write the whole (or maybe part, I dunno yet) of the sixth Harry Potter book. In fact, I hope she'll be glad for the early retirement opportunity she has now instead!  
  
Harry Potter and The Final Encounter  
  
Prologue:  
  
Harry stared intensely at his arm. He picked up his scissors again. If only he could get the shape right. He was feeling dizzy, not that he cared anymore. He didn't care about anything anymore. He was huddled at the corner of an abandoned classroom, hiding. He didn't want anyone to find him, hoping no one would bother to look for him after he was yet again absent from dinner. Harry wanted to close himself off, never have friends again, never have to risk the lives of the ones he loved just because they are acquainted to him. "It hurts less that way" he would tell himself, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He heard the door creak open, and heard a pair of light, determined feet walk in. Harry kept his eyes to his left forearm. The shoes walked briskly in his direction, stopped suddenly, and gave a horrified gasp.  
  
Harry paid no notice to Hermione's sharp intake of air. He had to concentrate if he was going to get this right.  
  
"Harry! What are you doing?" was the hysterical comment when he made no reply. He weakly looked up into her eyes. His eyes were blank and dark, impassive. He had the expression of one under the imperious curse, and Hermione tensed, shifting sideways glances around the room, in case the culprit was still there.  
  
"Making a symbol,"  
  
Hermione snapped her eyes back to Harry's blank ones after the unexpected reply. "For Ron." He added. "In memory of him. So I won't ever forget him..." he mumbled vaguely. He was cold, and having a lot of difficulty forming words with his lips, his muscles working with difficulty to pronounce his speech properly. He was tired; there was a pain in his side, going straight into his lung. He ignored it. Smiling weakly, he pulled his eyes off hers and examined at his handiwork thoroughly, running his fingers over the bruised and torn flesh.  
  
The scissors he had stolen from the storeroom were jagged and blunt, and they left messy cuts in his arm. He had had to dig deeply to make a satisfying shape, and now the blood was welling up in floods, and dribbling to form small pools on the floor. He followed the progress of the trickling on of blood when it reached into the cracks of the cold, stone floor. His hands were shaking, pale and clammy, but the pain in his forearm was oddly relaxing. It took away some of his guilt, helped him deal with a deeper pain. Harry relaxed against the wall, closing his eyes.  
  
"Harry NO! You might get fall unconscious!" Hermione was frozen to the spot where she stood, watching horrified as her best friend in the world was slowly cutting himself up, and was now slumped against the wall as if dead.  
  
Hermione gasped again when Harry started, picking up the bloodied scissors and attempted to make a rounder bend on his already ruined "R". Harry suddenly felt something on his carving arm. He looked and saw Hermione's hand there. She was kneeling in front of him, her eyes wide and on the verge of tears.  
  
"It's ok" He mumbled, he didn't want her to feel bad for him "Just for Ron, He deserves a memory, his best friend shou..."  
  
"H-Harry." She stammered, trying to keep her voice low. Harry had recently been getting into random fits of violence, and that was not only due to Voldemorts irregular attempts to once again take over his mind. The smallest annoyance could make him explode. "Why are you marking yourself? Why are you trying to make a symbol? Just like V-Voldemorts followers. Just like a D-Death Eater."  
  
Harry snapped out of his trance at the mention of the Dark Lords name, and stood up abruptly, causing him to get even dizzier. He stared, horrified at the maimed gaping wound on his arm, the unfinished "R" now a jagged mass of blood and flesh, where the scissors had been pushed in too deep. He allowed the scissors to slip from his hand, falling with a clatter on the ground. He stared transfixed into Hermiones wide eyes. "I..." He stammered. Then his face involuntarily creased into a frown.  
  
"It's ok Harry, it's it doesn't matter. Listen Harry. HARRY!"  
  
He had started to hit his head against the stone wall. He was screaming, slamming his fists aimlessly into the nearby empty bookshelf.  
  
"I –I DON'T GET IT! I DON'T GET IT! WHY, HERMIONE, WHY DID HE GO, WHY IS EVERYONE JUST GOING! WHY AM SLOWLY BEING LEFT ALONE?. FIRST SIRIUS NOW RO..."  
  
He collapsed on the floor, unable to stand up straight anymore. Hermione hurried over to him, putting her arms around him, holding him tightly. "Its ok," she soothed, "its ok..."  
  
"Hermione, I prom... y-you promise...don't leave ok?" He blubbered, clingin onto her clothes. "Stay here... with me...I promise to keep you safe, don...don't leave me...I ...I just don't get it. Sirius, Ron...I just want to KILL HIM! I SWEAR I WILL KILL HIM HERMIONE! He's killing all my friends - your friends, my parents, Neville's, Ron..." He choked, and took a calming breath before continuing "I have no words for him, I hate him so much! I-I just don't get it!" He said through gritted teeth.  
  
"Harry. Of course - of course you'll kill him. Otherwise...it just can't happen, it can't! I'm so sorry, I know that anything I say will have no significance to the pain you feel right now. I'm so sorry Harry! It's ok." She added, as she noticed Harry's face was damp with recent tears. She patted him lightly on the back, then detached herself from him, and took out her handkerchief, progressing to slowly drying his eyes.  
  
"Dumbledore wants you to come. We all do Harry, to dinner. I mean, you can't just sit here and starve yourself..." Hermione raised a finger to his lips, as he was about to protest. "If not for yourself, then for Ron, and Sirius. They wouldn't want you to waste away like this. And neither do the rest of us." She played with his strong points. "How can you kill Voldemort if you're hungry?"  
  
Harry's face curved into a small grin. "Thanks Hermione." He took a quick sweep of the room around him. "Think you c-could you help me clean this up?" Hermione looked awkwardly at Harry's arm.  
  
"I'm sorry Harry, I don't know any spell to heal something that big! But, I can try to wrap it tightly, it could stop the blood flow..." She muttered "Ferula!" and immediately bandages appeared, tightly binding Harry's arm. He winced as the skin in his wound was pulled together.  
  
With his arm well bandaged, and covered in his school robes, no one would notice his arm, or even suspect what he had been doing. He smiled gratefully at Hermione who was now muttering "Scourgify!" at regular intervals, until all the bloodstains disappeared. Harry stood up gingerly, not leaning on his right leg. His hands were still pale, but he was glad that he wasn't as dizzy anymore.  
  
The pain was evident in his leg. At the look of Hermiones worried face, Harry straightened up, and winced.  
  
"It still hurts doesn't it?" She asked quietly.  
  
"Yeah...But it's not so bad now. As long as I can fly..."  
  
When he walked out of the door, warmed by the thought of Quidditch. He was so distracted by the wonderful feeling of freedom that only flying could bring, he walked face-on into Professor Snape, who had obviously been waiting outside. Harry gave a meaningful look at Hermione, grateful that she had placed a silencing charm on the door. Snape gave his usual greeting sneer. "I have been sent by the headmaster to escort you to the Great Hall. He seems rather afraid that you..." He glanced briefly at Hermione "may...ah... come to harm." He said that last word with decidedly more emphasis. With that, he turned on his heel and billowed along the corridor, expecting Harry and Hermione to obediently follow.  
  
Harry knew what this was all about. Snape had found the idea that Harry was potentially dangerous (due to his unfortunate connection with Voldemort), a great new way to taunt Harry. Although Harry was sure Snape knew very well that Harry couldn't control most of the flairs of anger that occasionally arose in him, Snape gave the impression that he had ignored the fact completely. Harry sighed and limped painfully after Hermione, who was trying to catch up to the Professors deliberately speedy stride. He was too tired to care for what Snape had to say.  
  
Author's note: Well? What'd u think? Plz plz review, because this is my first fic and I need to know if my writing style is any good. Is it too slow, too heavy, out of character (I really tried). Thx. 


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